42
Sage
Twenty-SIX hours buried
“ Ms. Jessa, can you boost me up now, too?” Ben asked. He was the next tallest.
“ Yes, as soon as Sage finds a way up the shaft.”
I gulped in a ragged breath. It was already easier to breathe up here, closer to the surface. The tiniest breeze tickled the hair on my arms.
My shaky arms dripped with a fresh layer of hot, wet blood as I scooted my feet around the narrow ledge of the plywood. Then I tentatively climbed up on top of the big, heavy square-shaped thing in the center of the wood, bracing my hands against the sheets of warped plywood that formed the walls of the narrow chute.
There was a little light coming into the chute from above me. Little slivers around one edge of that big piece of metal that covered up the entrance to the hole.
I stood slowly, barely daring to hope that I ’ d be able to reach the sheet of metal. It wasn ’ t that far away.
I held out my hands, fingertips stretching skyward.
My heart sank.
It was still a good two feet above my fingertips, even standing on top of the heavy object. “ I still can ’ t reach the top,” I called down.
“ Can you pull Rose or Ben up there with you?” Ms. Jessa asked hopefully. “ I think I can boost them through the hole if there ’ s room to stand.”
I shook my head and squinted at the plywood walls bowing in toward me. It was narrower in here than I remembered from when we ’ d climbed through earlier. It had been a struggle just to get my arms and legs in position to stand. I wasn ’ t sure how the ladder had ever fit down here. I remembered the chute being bigger, the plywood walls straighter. I definitely wouldn ’ t be able to lift someone else up here with me.
I ran one hand along the plywood and frowned. It was wet.
I suddenly remembered the sound of the rain from last night, pinging fast and hard on the metal sheet above us before we went to sleep. “ I don ’ t think there ’ s room for more than one person. The rain … it soaked the wood walls, they ’ re bending in a lot. Could you hand me the bucket? I think I could put it on top of this …” I kicked at the big black thing I was standing on, testing how solid it was. It didn ’ t move. “ There ’ s a big square thing I can put the bucket on top of.”
There was a soft rattle beneath me as Ms. Jessa tried to push the bucket up through the hole, then a hard thunk as she tried to force it through.
“ The shape is wrong,” Ms. Jessa said. “ We ’ d have to make the hole bigger. Can you break off more pieces of the plywood?”
I ignored her for just a second, because I was too focused on an idea that had jumped to the front of my mind.
It was a Harriet-the-Spy kind of idea, and it sent a little fizz of hope through me.
“ I don ’ t think I need the bucket. I know how to get out now,” I called back.